Take Care of You
by The Lincoln Imp
Summary: The Briefs are throwing a party to celebrate the life they have before the destined arrival of the androids. Bulma really wants Vegeta to go, if only for all the free food. She also wants him to dance with her, but apparently Saiyans 'don't dance'. Can she convince him otherwise? All reviews welcome.
1. Chapter 1

A/N

Before you start i just wanted to say a missive thank you to everyone who reviewed my last story, you were all wonderful X

This is a B/V story because i think they are just so, SO brilliant, and i shall continue to worship them forever.

As always, please feel free to leave any criticism, i love hearing what you guys think and feedback is always appreciated.

Alos, sorry in advance for any typos or grammatical errors, i have slight dyslexia which makes it hard to spot things like that.

I hope you enjoy x

Bulma stepped out of the shower, steaming and smelling faintly of her favourite body wash. Wrapping one towel under her arms and a second around her head, she exited her en-suite, glancing for the thousandth time that afternoon out her bedroom window. A large white marquee tent had been erected on the well-kept lawn of the Briefs' family garden earlier that day, but she could still catch a glimpse of the Gravity Chamber peeking out from behind it if she craned her head enough to the right. She'd done it so much it was a wonder her neck didn't get stuck.

She let out a long sigh as she looked, even though she already knew he was still in there. She didn't have to see the red lights flashing through the porthole windows, she could feel the engines humming as one of the most technologically advanced and complex pieces of machinery ever invented by the human mind, was being vigorously thrashed by the most pig-headed and stubborn being in the universe.

' _God I wish he would come out of there soon_ ', she thought to herself as she sat down in front of her mirror, ' _he's going to kill himself way before the androids get here if he carries on like_ _this_.'

It had been days since she had last seen him and the constant buzz of the chamber had been her lullaby for the past two nights in a row. Sometimes she wished he would work out like a normal person, with regular breaks, giving his body time to heal. Instead he would train like a mad man until he could hardly stand, eat his own body weight in food, pass out from exhaustion, wash, rinse and repeat. But then, she thought to herself, if she took his dogged determination away, if she removed his Saiyan singlemindedness, well then he just wouldn't be Vegeta anymore. And she couldn't bare that, however much he pissed her off.

Feeling the towel on her head growing increasingly damp, she ruffled it quickly over her hair to get the excess water out before reaching for her hair dryer. A sudden silence slowly filtered into her awareness, halting her hand in mid-air. It was like that feeling you get when you're asleep in the backseat of the car and you get woken up, not by the doors opening, or your mother moaning that the seat was hurting her back again, but the absence of the wheels rumbling underneath you. It takes a second for you to notice, but once you do, the quiet is impossible to ignore.

Hardly able to believe it, Bulma swung backwards on her chair, teetering dangerously on the back two legs in an attempt to crane her head far enough to see out the window. Sure enough, the red lights had _finally_ been turned off and a distinctive figure with spiky black hair could be seen striding towards the house.

Unashamed of the wide grin that appeared on her face, she quickly ran her fingers through her still damp hair, ruffling it so it looked alluringly tousled, dropped her towel and purposely slipped on one of her shorter silk robes.

Making a conscious effort to walk and not sprint down the stairs, she grew annoyed at her own impatience. He would be able to tell from her ki if she had been running and she couldn't come off TOO eager. Walking into the same room as him while she was accidently-on-purpose half naked was fine, admitting to him how much she wanted to see him was not. His ego was big enough already.

She had known he would head straight for the kitchen and was proved right when, on approach, she heard the unmistakable sound of the fridge door being closed. Smiling at his predictability, Bulma rounded the corner into the kitchen and stood in the doorway, taking in the sight before her.

Bulma had always thought of herself as a sexy woman, praised herself in her ability to turn heads, but Vegeta was something else entirely. He stood with his back to her, his face buried in a cupboard, dressed in his tight training shorts and shoes and _nothing else_. Her hungry eyes roamed over his glorious back, glistening with sweat, muscles still tightly strung from his exertion. His shoulders were broad and the blades slid under his skin like a prowling panther's as he reached up with one powerful arm for something on the shelf. She knew first-hand how mind-numbingly _good_ it felt to be in that embrace, had run her tongue down that curved spine, and let him do the same to her.

"You won't find anything good in there," she said, walking over to the island counter in the middle of the room.

He grunted his agreement, obviously underwhelmed with the contents of the shelves, before looking over his shoulder at her. He was visibly surprised at her state of undress, although by the way his eyes swept over her loose hair and thin robe, he didn't seem to mind.

She leaned forward onto her elbows atop the kitchen counter, letting the neck of her gown fall open slightly "Hay there Tough Guy." She said, giving him her sauciest grin.

"Woman," he growled even though the corners of his lips twitched up, "that is not appropriate attire for the communal kitchen."

"Oh isn't it?" she frowned in playful confusion, her eyes following him as he stalked his way closer to her around the counter "But I just got out of the shower Vegeta, what else would I be wearing?"

He had come up behind her, his bare front pressing firmly against her back while she was still leaning over the counter. His hands ran up her sides and her breathing accelerated, Gods she had missed this, she had missed him. He swept her hair back from her shoulders so he could run his nose along the curve of her neck.

"Mmm," he breathed against her flushed skin "You smell good.

She whimpered, rubbing herself back against the front of his shorts. This had escalated far quicker than she had planned. Not that she was complaining. Not at all. If the way he was pawing at her was any indication, he had missed her too.

One of his hands was slowly inching up the back of her thigh, the rough skin on the pads of his fingers sending sparks up her spine, while the other had slipped between the open neck of her robe and was cupping a full breast in his large, hot palm. He nudged her feet further apart with his leg, not that she needed much encouraging, as his strong fingers squeezed the firm flesh of her backside.

"Vegeta." She moaned as a thumb flicked over a straining nipple. Her hands reached up behind her and dug themselves into his hair, her spine arching into his grasp while curving her hips harder into his. She craned her neck round to the side so that their lips could meet. Less than an inch apart she paused, grinning up at him "You smell gross."

She laughed and spun round in his arms, facing him as he growled. His hands attached themselves firmly to her waist and he pulled her closer again. Things were about to get _really_ good when he closed his eyes, exhaled sharply through his nose and stepped away from her

She was about to ask what why the hell he thought it was okay to stop when things were just getting interesting when he snarled, "Your mother is coming."

He walked back round the other side of the counter, which was probably a good move thought Bulma, as her mother chose that moment to twirled dreamily into the room. Those training shorts didn't leave much to the imagination. Bulma had only just had enough time to straighten her own robe before Bunny came in, so she doubted Vegeta had sorted himself out yet. It was empowering to know she had that effect on him.

"Good morning my two favourite youngsters. Bulma's mother sang, oblivious to the tense atmosphere in the room.

"Morning mum." Bulma grinned when she saw the redness of Vegeta's ears as Bunny floated round the kitchen, closer to him than he would have liked. Bunny was already busying herself with making Vegeta a many tier sandwich. To Mrs Breifs it didn't matter who you were, she was never happier than when she was feeding someone. Stranger, visitor or family member, everyone fell victim to her cooking prowess and she was having an unspoken battle with Vegeta's stomach. Not once had she ever seen him full and that just wouldn't do. If he was still hungry, then she was going to keep cooking. It never worried Bunny that he ate a monstrous amount of food as it was, without her giving him extra. He was a 'growing boy' after all.

"Anyway Vegeta," Bulma began, pouring herself a glass of water as she did, "the reason there's hardly any food in the house is because, and you probably weren't listening while I was telling you the first time, so I'll say it again, we're having a big get-together in the garden tonight and we've all been far too busy to go shopping. But there's going to be plenty of food there. So if you're hungry later you're going to have to join us." She took a swig from her glass and added "At least for a bit."

He glared at her and she stuck her tongue out at him, she knew how much he hated being around 'insignificant weaklings' as he so lovingly described her race. But she had missed him and she wasn't above using dirty tricks, like not ordering enough shopping, if it meant he would be spending the evening with her.

"Ooh Vegeta do!" Bunny cried happily, sweeping her way over to him and clutching his upper arm. Bulma had to stifle her laughter at the distressed look on Vegeta's face. She found it hilarious that this battle hardened solider, a man who had done and seen countless atrocities, had no idea how to deal with a slightly ditsy woman who was _far_ too happy with life in general for him to be comfortable around.

"It's going to be such a lovely evening." Bunny continued, blind to Vegeta's awkwardness, although it might have helped if she opened her eyes, "and all your little fighter friends are going to be here."

At that Vegeta's gaze flicked over to Bulma.

"Kakarot will be attending?"

She nodded and watched his almost permanent scowl deepen in thought.

He picked up the plate his now completed sandwich had been placed on. It was so tall it was in danger of toppling of the plate like a slinky made of bread and pickle. He shrugged his arm out of Mrs Breif's hands and made his way to the door. Bulma was not surprised he wasn't hanging around, he didn't like dealing with her mother at the best of times and she saw the way his eye lids were drooping and the unusual slope of his strong shoulders. He put on a good façade around them but he must be exhausted. He paused momentarily at the exit to say "I shall consider it." Before striding away, the white flash of his trainers the last thing to disappear through the door frame

"Ah wonderful." Bunny clapped cheerfully "It will be nice for him to let his hair down a bit wont it honey?"

Bulma smiled, not even the force of three hundred times gravity could flatten that absurd hairdo.

"Yeah mum," she said, placing her empty glass in the sink "yeah it will.".

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

With make-up done, dress in place, and heels laced securely to her ankles Bulma glanced at the clock on her bedside table and groaned. She was already _beyond_ late. Making a final touch to her hair, she walked quickly down the stairs and into the kitchen. When she entered a beaming smile lit up her face at who she saw rooting through the fridge.

Yamcha.

"Hello stranger." She smiled, laughing when her greeting made him knock his head on the door as he jumped.

"Ouch!" he turned to her "Oh Bulma hay!" He was giving her his signature lopsided grin, rubbing the sore spot on his skull and blushing slightly. The lovable goof, this was obviously not the smooth reunion he had been planning. Bulma's heart melted.

She opened her arms "Oh come here you big lug" and with that she was in the biggest Yamcha-bear-hug of her life. His long arms looped their way around her, and he lifted her right off her feet with the force of his enthusiastic embrace. She gave a giggling squeal as she gripped tightly to his shirt. He made her feel like a teenager again. She hadn't realised just how hard she had missed him until now.

"Ha, alright, alright! Put me down before you crack my ribs there buddy." He placed her gently back on her feet and she grabbed his arm a moment to steady herself. She gave him a glance over while she was stood close. He looked good. Healthy and happy. It had been a while since she had seen him, not since after their breakup. Although the whole thing had been civil, friendly even, in the back of her mind she had been worried about how he would deal with it. Yamaha was a sensitive soul, so warm and loving, but also easily hurt. She had _meant_ to stay in touch, really she had, but with: Vegeta, the arrival of the androids getting closer, _and_ being increasingly involved with Capsule Corp, she just hadn't had the time.

"I've missed you Yamcha," she said, looking up at his big, innocent eyes "I meant to call you earlier. I'm sorry this is the first you've seen of me for ages."

He awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, a habbit he shared with Goku. Honestly men, it didn't matter what planet they were from, none of them were comfortable talking about feelings.

"Don't sweat it B. A phone works both ways. I could have called you, but with training and everything- I just kinda, forgot."

"Believe me, I know. It's been hectic round here lately, Mums been going crazy over organising this party." Bulma gave a quick glance around the empty kitchen, then one into the even emptier hallway. "Where is she anyway, and why are you in the kitchen? She knows there isn't any food in here."

"No idea," he said, shrugging, "she let me in and was so busy telling me about setting all this up that she kinda just left me at the bottom of the stairs for no reason. She said she'd be back, but that was ten minutes ago, so I came in here looking for a beer. Not had much luck with that though."

"Well of cores not, everything's outside." Bulma laughed and motioned for Yamcha to follow her, "I swear if it wasn't attached to her neck, that woman would lose her head."

He grinned "Oh I don't know about that. I recon your mothers a genius in disguise and she just has us all fooled."

"Yeah, and what makes you think that?"

"Well," he said, giving her a sly grin, "she always knows what trouble you are your dad are up too. I bet nothing happens in this compound that she doesn't know about."

Bulma grimaced "God I hope for her sake, _and mine,_ that that isn't true. If she knew half the stuff I get up to round here, she wouldn't be able to look me in the face."

Yamcah raised his hands and laughed heartily "Ergh, I don't even want to know!"

She smirked evilly up at him "Good, because I'm not telling." They reached the back doors to the house then and she opened it for him. The evening air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the summer day. The marquee set up on the lawn had the doors thrown open, upbeat music already pumping inside. Several familiar silhouettes were outlined against the flashing lights from inside the tent. Bulam and Yamcha shared a wide grin before hurrying towards a few with recognisably spiky hair.

"Hay guys!" Bulma yelled waving, running as fast as she could over the grass in her heels. They were all there. For the first time in nearly two years everyone was together. They dissolved in big, laughing, tangled ball of limbs and hugs as though they were children once more. Goku, Gohan, Krillen, Oolong, even Chi Chi was hooked into the embrace, and although she grumbled, she still had a smile on her face. It came to a swift end however, when Bulma felt the tell-tale hand of Master Roshi gripping her ass. A swift slap to the top of his shiny balled head quickly solved the problem and he gave a dirty "Heh heh heh!" before whispering something to Krillen. Judging by how red his face turned, it was had been something particularly vulgar.

They all stayed together for a long time, even though some other of Bulma's other friends were at the party, and she was being a horrible hostess by ignoring them, she found herself suddenly unable to tare herself away from this mismatched band of worriers she loved so much. Her mother would be looking after the other guests anyway, Bunny was a social butterfly and in her element during a good party.

Drink flowed freely, for some people a little _too_ freely, and the good mood was insatiable. As the last rays of the summer sun set behind the clouds, they migrated inside the tent where the music and lights bouncing of the canvas walls blocked out the world. People would have been forgiven for forgetting anywhere else existed.

After a while the buffet was brought out, to great applause from the crowd as people had worked up an appetite dancing. That is when Bulma notice the tent doors flap, and a shock of gravity defying hair enter. She grinned to herself, he always did have excellent timing.

TBC

A/N hay guys thanks for all your support with the last chapter, it was really heart-warming to see.

Again, feel free to leave any feedback as it is all welcome x


	3. Chapter 3

Snatching a cold bottle of beer from the bar, Bulma and her glass of wine made their way over to where she'd seen Vegeta disappear into the crowd. He hadn't wasted any time, already he was surrounded by a rapidly decreasing mountain of food, the bare bones of numerous animals littered the ground by his feet. He wasn't alone either. Goku and Gohan had joined him at his table. She could also spot Piccolo's turban above the heads of other party goers, standing off by the back wall and watching the Son pair with an affectionate, albeit slightly disgusted expression. ' _God these Saiyans and their appetites_.' Bulma smiled. ' _It's a good job I'm rich otherwise Id have been eaten out of house and home. Poor old Chi-chi's got two of them!'_

She placed the bottle of beer down in front of Vegeta, he barely looked up at her as he continued to shovel food into his face at an alarming rate. She got a muffled "Mmmay Mulma!" from Goku while he while he had his mouth wrapped round on what looked like half a pig, before his focus shifted back to how far it was possible for his stomach to expand in one sitting.

Sitting down in the empty seat next to Vegeta she leaned forward, "Im glad you came Tough Guy, it hasn't been the same without you scowling at me."

He shot her a look but it lacked its usual sharpness. Maybe it was because it was hard for him to be angry while he was eating such delicious food, or maybe it was because he was in a rare good mood. It could possibly even be both. Either way Bulma's spirits lifted when she realised he was enduring her teasing. It was one of her favourite pastimes.

"Did you have a nice nap Prince?"

He growled warningly at her, although the effect was dampened somewhat as his cheeks were full to bursting. "All ready to get down and have a good boogie?"

He gave a great swallow and a glare. "I have no idea what this _boogie_ is, but it sounds nauseating."

Bulma laughed at him, opening her mouth to explain the term, when his look soured from slightly playful to deadly serious.

"Touch anything on my plate Kakarot, and no dragon alive will be able to find where I hide your missing limbs."

Goku's hand, which had been inching closer to Vegeta's food pile, retracted guiltily back to its owner's side of the table.

"Come on Getes, sharing is caring. I've finished all mine!" Goku exclaimed, gesturing to his empty plate. It had been practically licked clean.

"Goku," Bulma sighed, "this is an _all you can eat_ buffet, you can go and help yourself to more any time you like."

Did he really think this was her first time feeding Saiyans? She knew what she was getting into. The chefs had been working themselves to the bone all day in preparation for the feast, yet she was still sure there wouldn't be any leftovers.

Steam practically blew from his shoes in Goku's haste to refill his plate, Gohan following closely behind. Bulma turned her focus back to Vegeta.

"And what about me?" she asked lightly. He scanned her face, wary of the impish glint in her eye.

"What about you?"

"Am I aloud to share from the Price of all Saiyan's plate?"

He gave a short snort of laughter, "Only if you want to suffer the same fate as Kakarot."

She took a swig of wine from her glass before leaning closer, "But _Getes,"_ she breathed the nickname (the nickname he _hated)_ in his ear "sharing _is_ caring."

"You assume I care, woman."

She walked her fingers down his forearm until they reached the back of his hand. He didn't pull away, but his eyes did scan the crowd over her shoulder. She knew he hated doing this in public which just made her want to tease him even more.

"Oh I _know_ you care."

And with that she plucked a BBQ rib from the top of his food stack and ripped a strip of flesh from the bone with her teeth. His eyes followed the movement and, when he finally looked back at her, she grinned smugly at him, daring him to say something.

He gave a snort. "You _must_ be drunk if you think there won't be repercussions for this woman. No one steals from me and gets away with it." She laughed in his face, sucking some of the rib sauce off her fingers, just to rub it in a little more.

"Yeah? What you gonna do about it, huh?"

"Don't you worry, your suffering will be cruel and unexpected. I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise for you just yet."

She took another sip from her glass, watching him watch her over the top of its rim, her eyes crinkling round the edges as she tried to fight back a smile. She loved it when he teased back.

"Probably," she said placing her cup back on the table, "the rate I'm getting through drinks tonight, I'm not going to remember this conversation anyway."

"Probably," he agreed, grinning evilly at her, "but the alcohol _is_ making you brave."

She knew it was too. She wasn't drunk yet, not by quite a way, but her stomach was pleasantly warm and the wine let her ignore a lot of the hostility he usually radiated around people. That may be why she suddenly thought it was a good idea to cock her head to the side and say, "Vegeta, come dance with me?"

He didn't even look at her, still focused on stuffing his face, he just gave a snort. "Ha, it must be making you stupid too."

Undeterred, she leaned forward, running her hand up his bicep as she shifted in her seat. He froze under her touch as her mouth got closer to his neck, her breath fanning above the collar of his shirt. He gave her a warning " _Woman_ ," but still closer she leaned, her lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"Vegeta, come and dance with me? Please."

He turned his head to look at her, swallowing his mouthful with an almost audible gulp.

"I do not dance." His tone was stern, but not harsh, with his rejection.

"Please?" she tried again, batting her long lashes at him, giving him the big puppy-dog eyes that would always melt her father whenever he said no.

"No."

Apparently the prince was made of sterner stuff.

"Vegeta- "

His expression was almost blank and hard to read, but there was something going on in his mind that he was not sharing with her. Something that made his tone a little _too_ emotionless as he tried to cover whatever it was he was thinking.

"I do not dance."

Not to worry. She had broken his walls down well before now. She was practically a master interpreter of the Language Vegeta. But she also knew when no meant no.

He had hated her when he'd first arrived at Capsule Corp, or at least, he'd acted like he did. They'ed clashed, violently and often. Both of them incredibly stubborn. Both always quick to arguments and raised voices. But she eventually saw through his charade, through his bursts of anger. She saw his pain and his loneliness, some of which was mirrored inside herself. He was far away from anything resembling a home, if he'd ever truly had one, and was all alone in the expanse of the universe, stranded on the small planet of rock and water he had tried desperately to blow up not that long ago.

If there was one thing Bulma had always felt it her duty to do, it was to help those that needed it. It was one of the reasons she loved science and inventions so much, why she went on adventure with Goku as a kid. She ached to fix the problems of the world, and along with it, the pains of a particular grumpy house guest.

So, with her always making the first move, they had shared moments. Brief, awkward moments where he was show genuine kindness for the first time in his life. It always saddened her that he didn't know how to handle her soft words or gentle actions. He initially distrusted her even more for her efforts. She had watched him try to figure out her game plan, to crack the hidden agenda he thought she trying to get to him with. But he never did, for Bulma exercised a patience with him she had never thought herself capable of before.

Yes, she still engaged him in shouting matches about the littlest things, that was how they were after all, but no longer did his harsh words cut her, no longer did his abrasive manor intimidate her as he hoped it would. And slowly, at the speed it takes a planet to complete its galatic orbit, he started to respond to her friendship. He fought her at every turn, his upbringing had engrained into him the need to be suspicious and separated from everyone, but he succumbed to her eventually.

What started out as a friendly passing touch, turned into a lingering caress between them. Lustful stares morphed into heated kisses, and eventually into something so much _more._ Just as he had been won over by her kindness, she had fallen into caring deeply for him. She cared a lot more than she probably should.

However, she could say with confidence that she was probably the only person on this planet he actually liked, maybe even trusted. Maybe.

"Then watch me." She ordered in a whisper, running her nose along the shell of his ear before pulling away and downing the contents of her drink in one go.

Even though people were eating, the dancefloor was still pretty packed as Bulma made her way over to it. Some were too busy enjoying themselves to leave the floor long enough to eat, while others were smart enough to not stand in the way of a hungry Saiyan and his food, preferring to wait out the feeding frenzy before helping themselves to whatever was left.

She looked over her shoulder at him when she reached the edge of the dancing mass of bodies. He was still watching. That unreadable expression still fixed on his face.

She grinned and winked before turning to focus on the crowd, allowing herself to be absorbed into the throng of people. The flashing lights and jumping bass emercing her in wave after wave of sensation. It was compact and hot with the pulse of moving bodies, but that just made the whole atmosphere more bewitching.

Turning to look at him again she laughed as she swayed to the rhythm. Goku and Gohan had re-joined him at the table and Goku was taking advantage of Vegeta's momentary distraction to pilfer some of his forgotten food. She laughed again when he failed to notice the theft taking place right under his nose. She had her hands her above her head, fingers buried in her own hair as her hips rocked to the beat.

She spun around, giving him her back, as she was called over by a group of her friends in the centre of the floor. The night was far from over, it would do him good to stew in his own juices while she had a good time. There was no way she was done with him just yet.

TBC

A/N

Hey guys just wanted to give a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who's left a comment, they are SO lovely and i really appreciate you taking the time, so thank you !

The support from you has been so wonderful. This is my fist proper go at writing fan fiction and your response has been so motivational, i honestly can't say thanks enough.

As always, i'll see you in the next chapter.

If you have any feedback or criticisms, please don't hesitate to send them, they are all welcomed X


	4. Chapter 4

A/N

HOLY SHIT, this chapter nearly killed me with how frustrating it was and I'm sorry that it took so long but i just couldn't get it right.

Also, this fic, and this chapter specifically, was inspired by the Joe Bonamass and Beth Hart song I'll Take Care Of You, which i STRONGLY suggest you give a listen to because it is absolutely too beautiful for words.

She was sweaty, and hot, and her feet hurt, yet the smile on Bulma's lips was anything but forced. Tonight she had let go of her troubles. She had allowed the weight of her responsibilities, and appointments, and business meetings to fall form her shoulders and indulge herself in pure, selfish, innocent _fun_ for the first time since her adventures so long ago with Goku.

She had danced and sang and laughed with the friends she was once so close to, but now hardly saw, and it was amazing to reconnect. She could, for at least a night, pretend that the world wasn't counting down the days till the arrival of killer robots that would seek to destroy everything that was good and wonderful in life.

Goku was playing the clown of the party, his libs flailing wildly in a bizarre interpretation of dance. It was astonishing that such an accomplished fighter (the best on the planet ) could be so unbelievably uncoordinated when trying to follow a melody. There was a circle of several feet cleared around him by party-goers in an attempt to avoid contact with a wayward leg, but Gohan was right there, his cheeks apple red from laughing at his father's foolishness. It remained Bulma how young he really was. The things he had seen and done, and the maturity with witch the young worrier usually carried himself, sometimes made it easy to forget that he was only a child.

The music being played was a mixture of old classics, cheesy one hit wonders, and current chart toppers that brought everyone together on the dancefloor. It was magical. She had even taken a spin with Yamcha, his goofy smile had called to her through the crowd and his joy had been as infections as it had always been. She missed the way he used to make her laugh. She missed the way they ALL used to laugh.

But there was still one person missing from Bulma's bubble of happiness that she wanted to drag into having a good time, if only he would let her.

They had been stealing glances all night and, although he had now migrated over to the back of the tent, Vegeta had never taken his eyes from her. The colourful strobe lights flashed across his face in an erratic pattern, the dark outline of his profile flickered against the white backdrop of the marquee in a way that made him seem oddly unreal. It manifested how alien he truly was in that moment.

Summer Nights form Greece was playing and there were many exaggerated gestures of love and devotion going on between laughing partners as the song came to its climatic crescendo. As the last cords of the song faded down and people ran out of breath singing that last, long, impossible-to-pull-off note, a new much slower song began, prompting people to start pairing off into couples around Bulma.

She did feel a tug at her arm, someone attempting to coax her into a dance probably, but she was unmoving in the swaying crowd, her attention locked on the stoic man at the back of the tent.

' _Please,'_ she begged him silently with her eyes, ' _please come and dance with me Vegeta'_.

In that moment it was _all_ she wanted, for him to join her in the fun, to allow himself to be accepted by good people who wished him no harm, only happiness.

He pushed himself from the wall, and for one glorious second Bulma though he had finally given into her. But when he skirted round the tables and towards the exit - her heart fell. She cared for him immensely, she honestly, truly did, but on occasions like these, when all he did was either fight her or ignore her, she sometimes wondered if it was even worth her trying. He seemed to be able to switch his emotions off so easily. She understood that his hard life probably made his withdrawn mentality a necessity for survival, and she couldn't begin to imagine the horrors he had seen and done and received, but Bulma was a creature ruled by powerful emotions. Quick to anger, quick to love, and quick to laughter. Her feelings were what made her so passionate and so strong. It frustrated her that he viewed her sensibility with such distanced contempt.

But she was getting used to his rejections by now. He needed his time and he needed his space. She would try again tomorrow. That was, after all, how she had made this much of a connection with him in the first place. She had simply been more annoying and stubborn than he had.

And then, just as his spiky hair was about to vanish through the flap of the doors, he looked back at her over his shoulder, jerking his head for her to follow. So, it seemed she had managed to make a little headway with him after all. It looked like he wasn't quite ready to give up on tonight either. That was reassuring, and relieving, and Bulma tried her hardest not to look too smug as she gently pushed her way off the dancefloor. Stooping quickly to undo the straps of her shoes, she stored them under a chair by her rosy cheeked and slightly intoxicated father, before following the prince barefoot out into the gardens.

The tent flaps closed behind her just as she spotted the outline of his hunched shoulders striding away from her across the lawn. Jogging along the slightly damp grass after him, Bulma caught up quickly, scanning what she could see of his expression in the moonlight. His eyes were hidden in the shadow cast by his almost permanent scowl, but the line of his jaw was relaxed, if not determined.

Together, they rounded a large tree where Vegeta stopped abruptly by its trunk. They could still hear the music form where they were, though it was muffled and distorted as it travelled through the cool night air. Vegeta looked upwards, through the overhanging leaves, and towards the moon. His face stood out starkly in its silvery light. He held a connection to the moon Bulma acknowledged but didn't fully comprehend. She often caught him standing statue-like on the lawn, gazing into the sky. She never asked what he was thinking. It seemed something very personal.

"I just don't understand you, woman." He finally said, his voice gruff and low in the back of his throat. She stood swaying in the breeze, barefoot and bright-eyed as he turned his face to her.

"What's to understand?"

His frown deepened and his lips tightened as he thought for the right words to articulate himself.

"Everything," he decided, "what you are, what you want, what you expect from me, _why_ you expect anything from me other than your painful death is a complete mystery, i-"

Bulma cut him off by taking a step forward and looping her arms around his neck, burring her face in his shoulder. She's found he manages to express himself better when she wasn't looking at him.

"Would you believe me if I said I didn't want any more from you than what you are willing to give?" she said against his throat.

His hands stayed by his sides, refusing to curl round her, but he lent his head down until his chin rested atop her blue curls. She felt her hair ruffle in his warm breath as he let out a long sigh.

"But that's exactly-" he stops himself and she can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex stiffly. Looking up at him, she sees his eye line focused towards the main house situated across the garden behind her. A low, inaudible, growl vibrates against her through his chest and he draws himself away. One large hand wrapped itself gently around her wrist and he pulls her from the tree, leading her much deeper into the seclusion offered by some meticulously pruned bushes.

When he finally comes to a stop she cocks her head questioningly at him but he grunts a quiet "Doesn't matter" at her.

Now that pisses her off. Her patience is not endless, and all this unnecessary secrecy is starting to become tedious. Why the hell can't he just spit out whatever it is? She quells down her frustration though, they are far too evenly matched when it comes to tempers, and are devils for egging each other on. They fan the flames of each other's irritation, as two fiery personalities tend to do when conflicting. It also doesn't help that she's been drinking, the alcohol adding fuel to her already simmering nerves. As much fun as fight would be, as much fun as fighting with Vegeta always is, she resolves to keep her clam. This is obviously something he is serious about, something important, and she needs to be there for him.

His dark eyes are even harder to make out in the deep shadows enveloping the pair of them. His irises', black at the best of times, are now almost indecipherable as they are hidden by the cast of his heavy brows, drawn low and sharp on his forehead. He takes a deep breath in though his nose before continuing whatever he had interrupted before.

"Kakarot I understand, he's an idiot but he's also a warrior. The Namekian, I understand. Hell, I even understand that scar-faced weakling." He ran a hand across his temple, his tone betraying his slight stress. "But you, I don't – I _can't_ understand you."

He takes a step forward cupping her jaw in the large, calloused palms of his hands. Bulma is a little breathless. It's probably one of the most emotionally intimate gestures he has ever shown her.

"Bulma," he growls out quietly in a husky voice, and again she is shocked, he hardly _ever_ calls her by her name, "why are you so kind to me? You know what I am. You know what I am cable of, you've seen me kill before and they were people you loved too, but here I am, invited into your home, your company," he gives another sigh, "and I just don't understand _why_. It doesn't make _sence._ "

"Vegeta." she breaths, sliding her hands up his forearms until her thumbs rub soothingly at the back of his wrists. She is touched by the rare emotion he is showing, and that, coupled with the drink still bubbling in her belly, causes her to speak honestly and without thought, "I do it because I care about you, because you need someone to take care of you for a change."

It was immediately obvious she had said the wrong thing. He lurches backwards out of her grasp like her touch had scolded him. Even in the dim light, Bluma could see his already prominent scowl scrunch down.

"Someone to take care of me?" he hissed, "Like I'm a fucking child? You think me so _weak_ that I need to be babied and nannied by a human?"

His outrage, as it so often does, sparks up her own defensive anger, "Oh for Gods sake Vegeta! That is not what I meant! Don't be an i _diot_."

She takes a deep, calming breath, shooting him a warning glare she hopes he catches, before she continues.

"There are many things I think about you Vegeta, and not all of them are nice, I assure you, but I have never, _ever,_ though of you as _anything_ resembling weak! You are brave and cleaver and probably the strongest man I know."

He opens his mouth to interrupt, but Bulma is not permitting it and she jabs a finger at him,

"Goku told me what you said on Namek, about what Frieza did to you, and I don't for a _second_ pretend to understand anything you went through while you were under his rule, because I realize I would _never_ be able to. All I know is that I honestly don't think any of us would have been able to survive the shit he put you through, and come out of it with anything close to our sanity or our identity - if any of us even survived at all."

She gestures fervently at him with open palms, "But you're here Vegeta, don't you see that? You are the Prince of the Saiyans, one of their last survivors. Frieza is dead and you are free because you're a fighter and you won. And _still_ you carry on, on to the next power level, onto the next fight, because you are a warrior!"

She stops, chest heaving and nostrils flared after her passionate tirade. He is standing still in front of her, shocked it seems, by the fire behind her words as she talks about him in such an ardent manner. She exploits his temporarily stunned state to press herself closer against him. Mirroring his gesture for earlier, she cups his face in her delicate fingers before trailing one hand to his brow and smoothing a thumb across the momentarily absent crease usually formed by his scowl.

"You're a stubborn, determined, prideful, warrior, but you're still a man Vegeta, still a person. I know the universe is cruel, I was on Namek too remember, but a person only deserves to go through so much. Haven't you had enough yet?"

She wraps her arms around his shoulders, their faces are so close she can feel his breath on her cheek.

"I see your pain, as much as you try to hide it, I see how lonely you are. I've admitted how strong you are Vegeta, but that doesn't stop you being a crappy actor so don't give me that look. I see you gazing out into space, I see you measuring yourself up to Goku, telling yourself that you're not good enough. But you _are_ , you are more than good enough, good enough to match Goku, good enough to beat these androids, good enough for me to- good enough for me to care about you as much as I do."

She looks eyes at him, wishing, not for the first time that night, that she could see his expression more clearly in the darkness. His solid shoulders, so often the bearer of all his burdens, are slightly slumped.

"But I'm not." He murmurs, voice low and horse, almost inaudible above the distant music still flowing from the party, "I'm not the man you want to see in me. All the things I've done; all the things I can't do… the only reason I don't stop is because if I do- I will truly have nothing left."

He tries to turn his head away but she refuses to let him go. "I don't belong on this world, woman." His tone is angrier now, defensive, "I _will_ defeat the androids, I _will_ defeat Kakarot, and I _will_ continue to train until I am the strongest being in the universe, but I won't be able to give you exactly what you want from me."

"Really," she says inquiringly, "and how do you know _exactly_ what I want?"

The shadows around his frown deepen.

"I won't ever love you."

"That's not what I asked."

He forces an irritated sigh from his nostrils, "Ok then woman, I'll bite. What _exactly_ is it you want?"

"I want what I've wanted from you all night. I want you to dance with me."

"Again with this, really? I told you Saiyans don't-"

"Don't dance, yeah whatever, you're wrong because in case you've unexpectedly developed blindness, you would have been able to see Goku and Gohan dancing all night."

With a frustrated huff he growls out, "Ok _fine,_ I'll rephrase myself, you insufferable woman, _I _ don't dance! Happy now?"

Drawing closer Bulma runs her lips along his ear, "No. This is my party Vegeta, and I want you to dance with me."

When he still refuses to move she continues, "Come on, I just made that whole speech about how brave I think you are. You're not going to make me take it all back already are you?"

"You're not half as cleaver as you think you are if you expect that pitiful excuse of bribery to work on me."

She chucked against his lobe while her nails drew gentle, enticing, patterns along his shoulders and the back of his neck.

"I'm cleaver enough to know you need to loosen up every once in a while. You've fought so long and so hard to be alive Vegeta. Don't you think it's time you tried living a little?"

She can feel his resistance crumbling under her soft words and alluring actions, the rebuff he delivered so casually before, now seems to have waned in conviction.

"I don't- I've never before…"

"Shh sshhh sshh," She comforts him, "don't worry. It's as simple as breathing. Trust me?"

Behind them a new song strikes up, it low and slow, sleazy and smoky. The steady tap of snare drums and the bluesy strumming of an electric guitar coils it fingers around the pair embraced in the shadows. The deep, powerful vocals pull at the strings inside Bulma like a marionette as her hips sway to the sensual beats. She slides her palms along the wide expanse of Vegeta's shoulders and down his long arms till her hands are over his. She places them on the dip of her waist, allowing him to feel the rhythm of the music, the rhythm of her body.

"Just feel," she breaths against him, "feel the song, feel me, feel the emotion."

His fingers grip her gently, large and warm around her. His hands are so broad they nearly overlap as they clasp her sides. He starts shifting his weight awkwardly from side to side, keeping up with the rhythm Bulma set.

She pulls her head back to look at him and she can see that his eyes are closed, long lashes casting sharp shadows along the prominent bones of his cheeks. Vegeta has always been an incredibly physical being. He wouldn't be anywhere near the fighter he was if that weren't the case, and as such she can feel him relaxing into the movements, growing bolder and more confident with every swing of their bodies.

"Yes Vegeta," she moans as the rocking of his hips against hers replicates an altogether more intimate act they have shared many times before. Her hands curl themselves in the corse stands of his hair as the beat of the music picks up pace, the drumming louder, the notes of the guitar quicker, higher, and accompanied by the sighs of violins.

Bulma gives a gentle tug at his scalp and he opens his eyes to look at her. Even in the relative darkness she can see they are burning at her and she can't wait any longer from doing what she's really wanted to all night.

She crashes their mouths together and it's messy and explosive. Their tongues collide, their teeth clack, and their hands grasp desperately to get impossibly closer to the other.

A rough hand slides itself around the back of Bulma's thigh and it's hitched suddenly around his hip. His other hand is high on her back, supporting her weight and arching her spine against him as she clutches at him for balance through their impassioned rocking.

The music around them is growing faster and faster, their movements more erratic and desperate, the clash of their lips more heated and unrestrained, but it's not enough. It's not nearly enough for what either of them want.

Bulma lets out a long, needy, moan and Vegeta dips her backwards, her lips wrenched from his as her head drops, exposing the pale column of her throat. Her locks eyes with him of a moment, her chest heaving, her fingers grasping, and she watches the brief flick of his tongue as it darts over his lips. That's all she registers before every coherent though is banished from her hazy mind as his moth connects with her neck.

She groans and he can feel the vibration hum along his lips, and his tongue, and he smirks against her flushed skin of her neck and the tops of her breasts.

Pulling her upright again, he barley gives her a moment to catch her breath before they are kissing again. While she's like this, all fiery, insatiable confidence, she is much too delicious to put down for long.

The song in the background continues to escalate, quicker and louder and more intense until finally it comes to a climax with an explosive drum beat, a last wail of abused stings that fades into a slow, lingering echo.

The dramatic moment was lost however, as Bulma and Vegeta were far too wrapped up in each other to notice the end of the song.

Without breaking the connection of their lips, he pulls her other leg around his waist to join the first and his hands gravitate naturally to the curve of her ass. He takes a couple running steps with her securely wrapped around him, before taking off from the lawn and flying straight towards her open window, leaving nothing but a trail of moans behinds him to be swept away by the breeze.

She laughs, unrestrained and heartily when his shoes touchdown of the fluff of her bedroom carpet. Her bliss is almost dazzling in the familiar room. She had gotten the stony-faced, Prince of the Saiyans, to dance with her! She had asked and he had agreed and it was wonderful!

She looks at him as she pulls him eagerly to the bed. She had seen then man inside of him she knew he could be tonight. As much as he denied it, as much as he fought against her, she could see the change in him. He wanted to be happy, he wanted to be safe and he wanted those things with her. It would take time, Bulma knew, one step forward with Vegeta normally meant three steps back. But she would wait for him. She would be patient because in the end it was going to be worth it. _He_ was worth it all.

The End

Hi, again i just want to say sorry for the delay on this chapter. i know i totally fucked up Vegeta, he's WAY to blergh in this - but in my defence writings _hhhaaaarrrrrdddd._

 _A_ MASSIVE thank you to anyone who reviewed or favourited this story, if it wasn't for you i think i honestly would have thrown my laptop at the wall and tried to forget the english language, so THANK YOU.

like i said this ended up really frustrating me so if you have any feedback or criticism, please feel absolutely free to say, it would be really appreciated.

i also have a short one short spin off of this chapter form the perspective of Yamaha if that tickles your fancy, its called Late Night Revelations, i hope you like it.

Thank you for reading and see you in the next one Xx


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